Seung-Hwan Oh


The visual result of the symbiosis between film matter and organic matter is the conceptual origin of this body of work.

The process involves the cultivation of emulsion consuming microbes on a visual environment created through portraits and a physical environment composed of developed film immersed in water. As the microbes consume light-sensitive chemical over the course of months or years, the silver halides destabilize, obfuscating the legibility of foreground, background, and scale. This creates an aesthetic of entangled creation and destruction that inevitably is ephemeral, and results in complete disintegration of the film so that it can only be delicately digitized before it is consumed. (artist statement)



We love the poetry of artist Robert Montgomery’s “recycled sunlight” pieces.



A series of photographs taken by ‘Bruce Davidson’ entitled ‘Brooklyn Gang’ He followed a group of teenaged who claimed the streets of Brooklyn NY as their turf.

“I found myself involved with a group of unpredictable youths who were mostly indifferent to me. In time, they allowed me to witness their fear, depression, and anger. I soon realized that I, too, was feeling some of their pain. In staying close to them, I uncovered my own feelings of failure, frustration, and rage.”

ah i’ve never seen the whole series! amazing!

(Source: exprexs)


Illustrator & Artist:

Joanna Krótka

"Red King"

"White Queen"

Drawing + Digital

(Source: joannakrotka.com)


the act of taking vengeance; revenge; payback; something done in retaliation.
Etymology: Latin ultio.
[bubug - Song of a Stone Heart]




the act of taking vengeance; revenge; payback; something done in retaliation.

Etymology: Latin ultio.

[bubug - Song of a Stone Heart]


He could go home right now, Garret thinks, as he parks the zipcar. Home is only a ten minute walk away. He’d be there in no time, then it’s knives cleaned, door locked and four hours of sleep before tomorrow’s workday. Ezra’s a creep, not a killer. The girl can probably take care of herself anyway, what with — he shivers as the involuntary thought comes to his mind — her singing — those voices singing — to him, at him, in him.

Garret takes a deep breath. On the exhale, he pushes that thought down into the part of his mind where he keeps all the involuntary thoughts locked up like titans in Tartarus.
He could go home right now, but he won’t. He needs to see this thing through to the end. He needs to assure that it does come to an end.

Left-right-left. Right-left-right. Left-right-left. Right-left-right. Left-right-left. Right-left-right. If he counts his steps in threes, three times, the path he walks will be simple and clean and easy. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he falters, the darkness of the park across the street seeming like an immense black hole. Only when he sees the girl and Ezra does he take a deep breath and force himself to break concentration, to  shit focus to the task at hand. 

"Let’s go, then," he says, not even bothering to look at them, taking a sharp right turn to cross the street. The girl pushes on ahead, her raccoons chattering with sharp teeth and wet tongues, little schlick schlick noises coming out of their mouths, their tiny finger-claws scraping the cement. 

"Hey, hey now," Ezra says, following them, "I’m serious, doc, as your attoney, I need to know what’s goin’ on here."

"We’re recovering a body, and you don’t have to come if you want to prevent yourself from becoming an article after the fact," Garret says, hoping he’ll take the hint, not looking over his shoulder, leading the girl to a bench at the edge of the lake. He takes a seat and prepares to take his shoes off when there is the sound like something splashing and as he lets his eyes focus in the darkness of the park, he can see them. Yes. There are definitely already figures in the lake. Well, fuck. 

(Source: iwillsayawordforsickness)